


Forth They Went

by Daegaer



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Anthropomorphic Personifications, Friendship, International Relations, M/M, post world war one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-23
Updated: 2010-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:10:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poland and Lithuania's first Christmas after regaining independence after World War I isn't as simple as they'd hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forth They Went

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Lithuania/Poland Secret Santa Exchange for the prompt: _Their first Christmas together after being separated for so long. They've both been through horrible things, though they remember how to touch each other it isn't the same. Relearning how to love each other._ Thank you to [](http://puddingcat.livejournal.com/profile)[**puddingcat**](http://puddingcat.livejournal.com/) for her great beta-reading! The title is taken from the carol "Good King Wenceslas": _Page and monarch forth they went/Forth they went together/Through the rude wind's wild lament/And the bitter weather._

" – and after _that_ we can go shopping and then we'll have everything for Wigilia, and we'll have a _totally_ delish dinner and we can go to midnight Mass in Warsaw – or maybe Krakow, I know you, like, think the cathedral's pretty – and then –"

"Wait," Lithuania said, his voice going unheard in the flood of words. "Poland, _wait_."

Poland looked at him expectantly, as if it was a foregone conclusion that his next words would be something like, _I agree completely, Poland_ or _Now that you've planned it out, let me take it from here, Poland._ He put his hand on Poland's shoulder, and tried to soften things by playing with his hair. It felt artificial and forced to him, like he was obviously cajoling him. Poland leant into the caress, just a split second too late for it to seem entirely natural. Lithuania felt hurt, then thought it was unfair to think that, given that _he_ didn't think he was doing a good job of seeming at ease. He was still hurt, though.

"Poland," he said in his most reasonable voice, "my people have been through a lot. Yours have too –"

"And now we're back together, they can both be happy!" Poland said, and moved closer to wrap his arms just a little awkwardly around Lithuania's waist. "Now we can all be happy, Liet," he said, muffled into Lithuania's chest.

Lithuania felt his spirits plummet. He put his own arms round Poland and kissed the top of his head. Not one of their attempts at affection had felt entirely right since they had met again after such a long separation. Well, the first hour or so had been fine, he thought, striving to be fair. But they had both eventually stopped crying with joy and relief, they had both broken off kissing and touching each other to take a breath of air and somehow all the simple truths of what they both had said in the first moments - _I missed you. I was so scared. I thought I'd never be free again. I thought I'd never be with you again_ \- had turned to half-silences and things they couldn't tell each other. Poland's smile turned glassy and fixed if he was prodded too much to talk about his time in Austria's house, and Lithuania certainly wasn't going to burden him with the details of what it had been like for him, trapped behind Russia's walls. He held Poland tight so he couldn't get away, not even when he started wriggling.

"Poland, I need to spend Christmas Eve with my people. You need to spend it with yours. We both went through a lot to be free and independent – let's give them all a free Christmas. Some of my people think your people just want to take over."

"Dude!" Poland said, and finally struggled free, his hair disheveled and a quickly-hidden half-panicked look on his face, "that's, like, total hooey! So, listen, if you come to my house in the morning of Christmas Eve, we can decorate and make it really pretty –"

"Poland!" Lithuania said, louder than he'd intended. He winced as Poland tried to make his flinch look like a casual movement. "I'm staying with my people. You can't just order me round anymore."

"I'm not –" Poland started. "You don't want to be with me for Wigilia?" he said, after a little pause, then he rallied. "OK, so, when you come over on Christmas Day –"

"I'll be _busy_ with my _people_!" Lithuania said, suddenly irritated beyond reason. Poland jerked back like he'd been slapped, and Lithuania felt _awful_. He reached out, and Poland stepped back, not looking him in the eyes.

"Fine," he said. "Of course. I, like, completely understand. It's not like it's the first Christmas we could celebrate together in over a century, or anything." He sniffed and tossed his head in the way he always did when he was doing his best not to let hurt feelings show. "Maybe we could pencil a date in our diaries to meet in, like, the new year. Maybe February. Or later, like May. If we're both free."

"Oh, Poland," Lithuania said, feeling worse than ever. He _hated_ making people unhappy. He could give in, he thought. It wasn't like Poland would beat him till he complied, not like Russia had done when the mood took him. It would be a perfectly willing surrender – everything in him recoiled. He had had _enough_ of bending to another's will. "Any time you're free," he said, and heard the effort it took to keep his voice calm and polite. "You know I'll be happy to see you."

"Likewise," Poland muttered. "See you." He stalked off, offence in every line of him. It had always looked funny when he did that before, but now Lithuania just sat wearily at his table and wondered how that century of separation could ever be overcome.

* * *

 

He spent Christmas Eve slipping from house to house, basking in the pleasure his people took in their freedom, in the end of the fighting. Too many homes were missing loved ones after the war and the revolution, but Lithuania could look at them all and begin to hope. He was poor, his economy damaged by the previous century and the terrible war, but he could hope for improvement. _Everyone will work together_, he thought. _We'll get by, and no one will tell us what to do again._ It was such a good thought that he could happily eat his own sparse Christmas Eve dinner as if it were a feast. Unbidden, he thought of Poland sitting alone at his own table, and remembered their shared meals of the past. Things had been a lot easier in some ways, when they were together and well-off. All he'd had to do was everything Poland said. His lips thinned. No more of that. Poland hadn't _meant_ a lot of the annoyance he'd caused, he hadn't _meant_ to be rude in shoving Polish words and customs into Lithuania's life. He just hadn't noticed there was a world outside what he considered normal.

Lithuania washed his dishes with more energy and anger than they deserved. If only Poland weren't so _oblivious_. If only he'd sometimes thought _partners_ might mean doing things Lithuania's way, now and then.

If only, he thought ruefully, he didn't miss Poland so damn much.

 

* * *

 

The day after St. Stephen's Day, Lithuania couldn't stay in his house any longer. He needed exercise, he thought, and bundled up warmly to go for a walk. He buttoned his warmest coat up snugly, pulled on a pair of heavy boots and gloves, wrapped a scarf around his face and neck and stepped out into the snow, settling a woolly cap more firmly on his head. The day was bright and clear as he trudged along, his breath puffing out white before him with each step. His territory was cold, hidden beneath the snow, yet it was beautiful and it was home. All his unhappiness and frustration ebbed away into the crispness of the winter, and he found himself smiling in simple pleasure at the sound of his feet breaking through the snow and the sudden dart of movement as a small bird flew across his path. Without any clear plan in his wandering he headed south and west and saw at last another figure heading north and east. He stopped walking while he was still safely on his side of the border, and watched Poland do the same. They stood in their respective territories, silently looking at each other.

"'Lo," Poland said at last, sounding gruff and unfriendly.

Lithuania blinked. That was how Poland sounded when he was stricken with shyness, unsure of how he'd be received, not how he sounded when he actually _wanted_ people to think he was unfriendly. "Hello," he said. "It's a nice morning."

"Going to snow again," Poland said, looking into the middle distance.

"Yes, but we're used to that," Lithuania said.

They lapsed back into silence, then both reached out at the same time, their hands clasping over the border. Their thick gloves made it too difficult to interlace their fingers, so Lithuania just settled Poland's hand in his and tugged gently to get him walking. They strolled along, each still safe on their own side of the border, looking at the snow blanketing the landscape.

"Funny how the snow hides the border," Poland said.

"It's almost like it's not there at all, just at this moment," Lithuania said with a smile.

They faced each other, then they both pulled at once and ended up straddling their border, arms awkwardly round each other as they kissed, their faces cold against each other. Lithuania shook off a glove to stroke his fingers across Poland's cheek and up to his head, knocking off his hat so he could run them through his hair. He held him tight, burying his face in the hair now being tangled by the wind and smiled. It smelt sharply clean, as if Poland had been carefully rinsing it with lemon juice to make it shine more brightly.

"Oh, Liet," Poland whispered, pulling him back for another kiss. He sniggered as Lithuania pulled at the buttons on his coat and put his ungloved hand inside. "Liet, someone will see –"

"Who?" Lithuania said. "It's just us."

"Liet, I'm not doing it in the snow, we'll, like, catch our death of cold."

"Then you'll just have to come to lunch in my house," Lithuania said, trying to navigate the layers of clothing beneath the coat as Poland protested, yet made no attempt to move in any direction but closer.

"If you'll come to dinner in mine," Poland said. "Liet? Will you? Ah!" He jumped as Lithuania's cold hand finally touched skin.

"Yes," Lithuania said, kissing him over and over. "Yes."

"We can – oh, _Liet_, don't stop –"

"So much for not doing it in the snow – "

"Oh my God, don't spoil the mood," Poland said in amusement, and pulled Lithuania's hand back to the surface. "Let's go to your house. We can go back and forth for the rest of the Christmas season – can't we?" he finished a little hesitantly. "I mean, we can, like, share stuff equally and be each other's guest and stuff?"

"I would love you to be my guest," Lithuania said softly. This was good, he thought, savouring Poland's awkward overture. It was a start, at least. "And I'd love to be yours. Let's go, I think we need a hot drink." He searched round till he found his missing glove and Poland's hat, then wrapped an arm round Poland's shoulder and led him deeper into his territory towards his house and warmth. "I couldn't afford to buy you a gift," he said, "sorry."

"I couldn't afford one for you either," Poland said sadly. He looked sidelong at Lithuania, and his eyes filled with mischief. "But I've got an idea for a totally wicked present you'll be getting the moment we're out of the wind."

"I think we may have the same idea," Lithuania said innocently. His house was in view now and drawing closer, and while he and Poland were not yet all the way home, they had made a beginning and that counted for a lot. They might even, he thought, be able one day to talk about their time apart, but right now he cared only that they were together.


End file.
